


She Keeps Me Warm

by hazel1706



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Wingman Steve Harrington, disaster lesbian robin buckley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23464693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel1706/pseuds/hazel1706
Summary: robin has had a crush on heather for months, and with some urging from steve, finally makes a move. sort of. she's doing her best.
Relationships: Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley/Heather Holloway
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	She Keeps Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

> another tumblr prompt :)   
> and yea i named another f/f fic after a popular lesbian song, what about it lmao (it's a song by Mary Lambert, in case anyone didn't know)

Robin’s phone buzzes.

Her shift is almost over. Twenty more minutes ‘til freedom and air that doesn’t smell like burnt coffee. She doesn’t need to check her phone yet. It can wait. She’s keeping her eyes fixed forward, watching the door in case customers come in. There’s nobody even on the street outside, but still, it could happen. It’s raining, people come into cafes for shelter all the time.

Stupid, traitor brain doesn’t seem to be getting the message though, because she keeps glancing down at her phone, sitting there on the counter _taunting_ her. She’s looking often enough that Steve’s noticed. She can see him making faces at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Just check, Rob,” he groans.

“Check what,” she asks, deadpan. Steve is unmoved.

“We both know it’s Heather, and we both know you’re dying to know what it says.”

“We don’t _know_ that. It could be…” she pauses, laments the sad state of her social life.

Steve smirks, “I will _pay you_ if you can come up a name right now.” Asshole.

“Your mom. Thanking me for last night,” Robin replies, wiggling two fingers in front of her mouth. Steve bats her hand away, pretending to gag.

_“Robin, no.”_

“Robin, yes.”

They’re interrupted when her phone buzzes again.

It’s not like she even has a good reason not to check. In fact, not checking is driving her a little nuts. It’s just that she knows it probably _is_ Heather, and her big dumb gay crush is starting to chip away at her withered little soul.

They’d been in the same creative writing class all semester and Robin hadn’t even _noticed_ her beyond the cursory “yeah this girl looks like she’s here on daddy’s dime”. Then their professor had partnered them for some assignment three months ago and…well. Turns out Robin was right, but Heather was also so much _more_ than that. Her father had wanted her to join the family business, be a reporter, but Heather’s heart had always been set on fiction. She had to fight to be allowed to take creative writing, to convince her parents it was even worth their money. The way she talks about writing makes Robin weak in the knees, and the fact that it was an act of rebellion doesn’t hurt either.

And on top of all that she’s got the prettiest smile Robin’s ever seen, and she always smells a little like vanilla.

Long story short, Robin fell hard.

So, letting her unread messages sit there is just easier than having to deal with Heather being all _nice_ and _friendly_ and _unattainable,_ doesn’t matter that it’s making her itchy _._ Maybe. Probably.

She glances at her phone again.

“If you don’t check, I will.”

“Don’t you dare, Harrington.”

He raises his eyebrows, a challenge.

 _“Fuck,”_ she hisses quietly, clenching and unclenching her hands. She knows she’s gonna check but doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction yet. “Goddamnit. Fine.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

It’s her turn to raise her eyebrows. “Pot. Kettle. Yadda yadda. Also, the one about glass houses? I could go on.”

“Please don’t. Just text your girlfriend back.”

“I hate you,” she says, faux cheerful, and grabs her phone.

And freezes.

Heather sent her a selfie. A _selfie_. She’s standing next to a window, pointing at the rain and pouting, and it’s _adorable_. Her bottom lip is all shimmery with lip gloss and Robin wants to know what it tastes like. She seems like a strawberry lip gloss kind of girl. Robin’s always liked strawberries.

God, she’s so fucked. And not in the way she wants to be.

There’s also a text. “ _Worked so hard on my hair this morning, and for WHAT”_.

Ugh. It shows. It really does. She’s got a little crown braid, half her hair cascading out of it in glossy waves, a couple stray curls framing her face. It’s a good look.

“Aw. She’s just down the street, you know, you should help her out,” Steve says, right next to her ear. She jumps, turns around and swats him away.

“Stop reading over my shoulder!”

He ignores her, “Girls love a good romantic gesture,” he says, nodding like he thinks he’s being wise. There’s a smug little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth that ruins the whole look.

“Like you would know.”

“I’m in a committed relationship!”

“Yeah, with _Hargrove._ I don’t trust any of your dating advice.” Robin crosses her arms. She’s better at hiding her grin than he is.

“Oh, come on, you love Billy.”

“Sure, but I wouldn’t date him.”

Steve opens his mouth. Closes it. He looks so genuinely flummoxed that Robin finally breaks, snickering.

She turns her attention back to her phone. The selfie. Heather is wearing her work apron, smeared with paint. Steve was right, she’s just down the street at that weird little pottery-making place Robin walks by every day but never actually pays much attention to.

And Robin did bring an umbrella to work…

“But what if—” Robin blurts, then bites her lip. She picks at her fingernails, chipping at the bits of polish she has left. It’s a stupid idea. It’s just another dumb crush on another girl who will never feel the same. She’s done this before, she can deal with just…waiting it out. No need to rush the inevitable devastating end with a gesture that would one hundred percent blow up in her face.

“Hey.” Steve startles her out of her thoughts. His voice is soft, and he’s got his Bambi face on, all big-eyed and dewy. “Heather’s different, okay?”

Of course he could see it written all over her face. Stupid Steve and his stupid empathy and kindness, making her feel all _seen_.

“I really think it would work out, Robin.”

“You don’t know that,” she says quietly.

“No, nobody _knows_ , but you gotta go for it anyways if you want to be happy.”

He’s right. She knows he’s right, but her stomach is still churning, nauseated by anxiety. It’s just an umbrella. She’d just be bringing her an umbrella. It doesn’t even have to _mean_ anything.

“Go, before she finishes her shift,” Steve urges, “I’ll cover for you.”

Robin throws her arms around his neck. “You know I love you, right?” she mumbles, muffled against his shoulder. She doesn’t say it a lot, not while sober, but she’s feeling mushy.

“Yeah, yeah, get in line,” Steve chuckles, tone impossibly fond, and hugs her back. “I love you too, now go.”

She goes. Runs down the road like a madwoman, clutching her umbrella. For some reason she doesn’t think to _open_ it, so she’s soaked by the time she gets to the end of the street, hair sticking to her forehead and dripping in her eyes.

Which is probably why she doesn’t see Heather as she flings the door open, nearly hitting her with it in the process.

“Robin?” she exclaims, dancing out of the way just in time. She’s even more stunning in person, and Robin is suddenly very aware that she’s a mess.

“Um. Hi.”

Heather’s blinking at her. Her eyeliner’s a little smudged. Robin’s never wanted to kiss someone more.

“Are…you okay?”

“I brought you an umbrella!”

“What?”

Robin holds it up, too embarrassed to speak. She’s getting rainwater all over the floor, and she kind of feels like she’s going to faint, lightheaded and weak in the knees. The only thing grounding her is how heavy the knot of anxiety in her gut is.

“Oh!” Heather smiles, slow and careful, “You…” She’s looking at Robin more closely now, eyes scrutinizing. 

The silence is making Robin fidget, and more words come pouring out suddenly, “Your hair. It looks really nice, and I just thought. You know. It would be a shame to, um. It’s just that you’re very pretty? I mean–” she stops, and begins planning out her new life as a hermit, preferably in a different country. 

“What…would you do if I kissed you right now?” Heather asks softly, almost shy.

Robin drops the umbrella.

“I—” she stutters, giggles a little hysterically, her brain somehow both blank and working overtime, “Probably pass out, honestly.”

Heather’s a lot closer than she was before, faint traces of vanilla still discernible under the earthy smell of clay. “Please don’t,” she laughs, and takes Robin’s face in her hands.

They both lean in, closing the gap between them. Robin’s still shaky, trying to steady herself by grabbing Heather’s waist but it only makes her knees wobble more.

Heather’s lip gloss isn’t strawberry, it’s peach. The discovery makes Robin smile against her mouth. She’s never been happier being wrong.


End file.
